Monday, July 14, 2014

Your Papers Please.... Coast of Illinois goes International. part 3

There is something disorienting about
being in another country. The language is different. The food is
different. The money is different.

I expected Canada to be well...not
disorienting...

I was wrong.

We drive on the same side of the road.
We speak the same language. The monetary denominations are the same.

Yet, there was something a quarter turn
off. I felt it the minute we left the glorious, industrial Detroit
and entered the picturesque city of Windsor, Ontario.

Was it the
lack of billboards?

It took a while to notice the LACK of ads for advertising on THIS SIGN

The enormous fields of solar panels and
windmills?

Sure, there are windmills in Illinois, just not armies of them. Here is a picture of several at rest. My feeling is that the Overlords are giving them the day off...

Was it the blue and pink plastic bills in my purse?

Perhaps it was the fact that we got our
change from the gas station attendant in 'loonies'?

It didn't help that the first thing I
saw advertised on the television was something called a 'poutine'.
This can only be described as a boat full of french fries and cheese
curds covered with brown gravy ...at McDonalds. I have eaten cheese
curds while on vacation in Wisconsin. But my McDonalds doesn't serve
ANYTHING with gravy on it.

Stupid American McDonalds.

And there it is.

I wasn't looking at a commercial for an
AMERICAN McDonalds. This was Canada. And for all the similarities, I
was in a foreign country.

Nothing brings this realization to the
fore more profoundly than when it comes time to cross that border and
return home.

We drove through Port Huron for our
re-entry, assuming that on a Monday morning the border entry at
Detroit proper would be jam packed. I have no idea if this is true.
The beauty of Port Huron negated the extra hour of drive time.
(recall the hour:butt time ratio from last week). It seems the
border guards are counting on this distraction to confuse you.

On the very first question – 'Where
are you from?' - Bart answered 'St Louis...um well really, across the
river in Illinois'... the guard raised his eyebrows and leaned out
the window of his booth.

On the second question – 'Why did you
go to Canada?' - answered with 'to see a Scott Kirby concert' the guard looked confused. 'Oh. He doesn't play in Illinois?'

I was beginning to feel as though Mike
the Necromancer of Monty Python and the Holy Grail was preparing to
vanquish us from the bridge for failing to answer him his questions
three.

And the final question– 'Did you buy
anything to bring back from Canada?' answered with 'five pounds of
Tim Horton coffee' pegged us for what we clearly appeared to be...

Middle-age couple,

GAP jeans,

comfortable mid-size
crossover vehicle,

classic rock on the
radio,

sparkling water in the
drink console...

We may
as well have pulled the bathtub off our roof rack and settled in as
the Poster Children of Viagra Smugglers.

"Please
roll down your back window, sir," the guard ordered as he left
his booth and stuck his head through our back passenger window where
he was met with a clear plastic bag filled with exactly five pounds
of Tim Horton's coffee which they DO NOT sell in Illinois. Not yet
anyway.*

He
stepped away from our car shaking his head. "Have a nice trip
folks. Welcome back to the United States."

I have
now successfully transported coffee not only out of, but also back
into the United States.

We were
home free. Back in the land of billboards and french fries covered in
grease and nothing more. I was feeling pretty relaxed until I caught
sight of a highway sign for 21mile. We were on the north edge of
Detroit.

A good
friend and occasional traveling companion, Crapmonkey warned me
about the dangers of Detroit. 'Stay away from 3 mile!' she warned,
'or 8 mile...or whatever street that Eminem guy is from.'

It
should be noted here that both Crapmonkey and I are well over 40. Our
knowledge of 'the hood', while pretty extensive, has only been
garnered from work. And movies. I had no intention of venturing into
Mr. Inem's part of town.

Does this make 12 mile 4x worse than 3mile???? YO!

We made
it through Detroit unscathed. Although we did pass numerous signs for
TUNNEL TO CANADA. And it was incredibly tempting....

But that
would have meant another border...

Ho! To go!

*It
seems that Tim Horton coffee will be making its debut here on the
Coast of Illinois somewhere in the next 4 years. This does involve
the buy out of Dunkin Donuts which I suppose is just another example
of an American business selling out to foreign interests. But jeez.
Their coffee is just so darn good, eh?!

Just
stumbled upon the Coast of Illinois? Curious about the beginning of
this international journey? The click HERE for part one and THERE for
part two!

And come
back next week for my companion piece 'Packing for a Weekend Getaway
or Stop Lying to Me Pintrest!'

Blah Blah...

I'm a landlocked beach bum here on the Coast of Illinois. No...not that Coast, you know, the one with broad shoulders. The other Coast. The one with tug boats and Arches and a bunch of ancient dead guys buried in Mounds.
I am an inadvertent sailor-thanks to my husband and our 15 foot handmade wooden sloop...for which I made the sails!
I am here to promote the beach bum lifestyle, even when surrounded by corn and clay and I hope to point out the everyday weirdness that is easy to miss because once you start seeing hairnets, you will never stop seeing hairnets.

I have a palm tree necklace. It set us back a whole ten dollars, purchased on the boardwalk in Destin, Florida during the first trip ...

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